The Shadow Soul (20 page)

The men at the docks who had been piling boxes onto the platform had been like him, unmarked and burned. She prayed that those tasked with removing the items would be the same.

Copying their garb, Jinji pictured Mikzahooq, the Ourthuri who had been so kind to her, and silently thanked him for letting her borrow his face.

Opening her eyes, Jinji brought her hand before her, sighing with relief at the sight of callused fingers. The skin around her wrists bubbled an ugly red, mixed with flecks of black ink that could not be completely washed away. Letting her eyes travel farther down, Jinji saw her chest was bare with hard and flat muscles. Cloth was tied around her waist, and she didn't care to look any farther.

Taking a deep breath, Jinji crouched on all fours before gripping one of the boxes closest to her and standing fully erect.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she fought to hide a smile.

Her gamble had worked.

Men circled the platform, dressed like her and unmarked like she currently was. Their eyes carried the same haunted glaze that Mikzahooq's had. They didn’t make eye contact with each other or with anything, like their souls had been erased along with their tattoos.

Gripping the box tightly, Jinji tried to blank her stare as she followed another man off the platform and into an open room. Guards dressed in flowing golden robes held swords before their eyes, but none of them looked twice at her. So Jinji continued following the line of unmarked men as they silently trekked across the room and into a sunlit corridor.

She couldn't help but peek from underneath hooded brows at the shimmering gold all around her.

It must be the palace. No other place could be so grand and so commanding.

Her blood began to buzz with energy, sizzling into her limbs.

Rhen was close. She could feel it.

But Jinji had no idea where to go. Columns lined her vision, opening into different rooms and different atriums, acting like walls. The unmarked in front of her continued stepping at an unchanging pace, weaving intentionally and with purpose through the maze before them.

Veering to the left, the men turned into a closed corridor with solid gold walls and openings that let the breeze fly in unchecked.

A hand gripped Jinji's arm, squeezing her skin tight, and yanked.

Dropping the box, Jinji tumbled sideways, pulled by an unseen force. She pressed her lips to keep from shouting, wincing as the boom of the box echoed down the long hall.

Pushed by invisible arms, Jinji crashed into a wall.

A soft thud sounded behind her.

Spinning, Jinji caught the sight of a door slamming closed—it was the first door she had seen in this city. As it sealed shut, it melded into the wall, almost indiscernible, and Jinji was left in a small boxy room with no way out.

A body slammed into her, knocking her tight against the wall as the cool steel of a knife settled against her throat.

It was a woman.

Her face was hidden underneath of veil of golden links, dangling from a delicate jeweled crown that rested on her head. But even through the small metal pieces, Jinji saw hardened wet eyes, read the anger and hurt pouring out from them.

And then something truly magical happened. The spirits awakened in Jinji's eyes, circling the woman before her in a shroud of blue so bright that it almost hurt. Water rippled along the girl's skin, clinging to the decorations on her tattooed arms, flowing down her long dress, and splashing around her face.

Jinji's heart stopped.

Aside from Rhen, she had never seen the spirits cling to a human before. And now it was happening again. But not with fire, with water. The girl was a walking ocean, her anger like waves crashing into Jinji's skin.

But instead of fear, Jinji felt comforted. The spirits had sent this woman to her. Somehow, she was meant to help.

The Ourthuri was speaking, shouting, pushing the knife deeper into Jinji's skin.

Slowly, with as much confidence as she could gather, Jinji said, "I do not understand."

The woman paused, tilted her head, and forced the knife closer as her gaze narrowed.

"You are not Ourthuri?" She asked, her voice deep and full of pain.

"No."

The knife pressed closer as the girl leaned in. Jinji didn't try to fight back.

"How do you wear that face?"

Jinji gasped. The girl recognized her, recognized the illusion—the man, Mikzahooq. Closing her eyes tight, she bit her lip, before breathing deeply.

Please
, Jinji asked the spirits,
please let this work
.

The illusion fell away.

Jinji stood before her attacker unmasked.

The girl stepped back in shock, her mouth dropping along with the knife she held.

"I traveled with Prince Whylrhen," Jinji spoke quickly, "who came to the palace today to return four Ourthuri men that we found on a ship. One man, Mikzahooq, was very kind to me, and I borrowed the image of his body to sneak here to save the prince, who I believe your king is going to kill. I can sense the spirits around you. I can sense that you have magic too, and that it does not frighten you. I promise I did not come here with the intention to hurt anyone, only to save the prince who has become a dear friend to me."

While Jinji spoke, the girl lifted a hand to her mouth. Tears dropped below her veil, falling swiftly to the ground. She nodded slowly.

"He was kind? Mikza?" She asked, voice wavering and warming as she said the name. The man had meant something to her, Jinji realized. They had been close.

"Yes." Jinji nodded. "He told me about these islands, so foreign from my own home, and comforted me. We were trying to help him, to bring him back to his family, but…"

The girl took an unsteady breath. "But what?"

Jinji shrugged, not sure how much to say. "I do not believe he was very excited to return. I sensed that there was something here he missed, something that had been ripped from his side, leaving a gaping wound in his heart. But there was something he feared as well—or someone, maybe."

The girl's expression hardened. Her lips pushed into a flat line and her pupils dilated. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, standing straighter and squaring her shoulders.

"I know who he feared. It is the same man we all fear, but cannot escape."

"Who?"

The girl looked up, met Jinji's eyes.

"King Razzaq…my father," she said, ice cold, and picked her knife up off the ground. "I will help you save your prince, but only if you can promise me one thing."

"What?" Jinji asked, relaxing, letting a little ray of hope leak into her senses. Perhaps all wasn't lost. Had the spirits saved her once again?

"Protection," the girl said quietly, and lifted her hand to remove the crown covering her features. Her umber eyes were large, unusual, and beautiful against her pale, brown skin with the slightest leafy hue. Her lids were painted golden, but even that brightness couldn't hide the heartbreak shadowing her young face.

They were the same age. And Jinji felt an instant connection with this girl, another person not ready for the pain the world had thrown at her.

"I cannot stay here with that man anymore. No matter what it takes, I am finding a way out, and when I do, I will need protection and a safe place to live where he cannot touch me. If your prince can help hide me, then I will help save his life."

"My prince has a special liking for saving people," Jinji said, unable to cover the smile that spread across her face. "He will help you. I swear it."

"Then use your magic to change your clothes to match mine and follow me."

The girl spun without looking back and walked to the door, opening it and jumping into the hall.

Quickly, Jinji closed her eyes, picturing the spirits as they wove around her. In her mind, she imagined wearing a dress of golden silks that hung from one side, leaving her shoulders almost bare. She pictured black tattoos sprouting on her arms, the image of flowers and curving swirls. And finally, she saw a golden belt cinching her waist and a golden headdress cascading over her face.

When her eyes opened, Jinji instantly knew the spirits had listened as metal hung before her, partially blocking her vision.

Without wasting any more time, she followed the Ourthuri princess into the hall, praying that her instincts to trust this girl were right.

They moved swiftly through the palace. Jinji, always the shorter one, struggled to keep up until the princess stopped, throwing an arm to the side, and catching Jinji around the waist to keep her from moving.

She put a finger in front of her lips, signaling silence, and stepped slowly around two wide columns, until a giant pool of water came into view, a brilliant turquoise nestled in gold. At the far end, Jinji saw Rhen crumpled on the floor—unconscious and surrounded by men holding swords.

Her throat dried. She couldn't swallow. Couldn't breathe. Her chest contracted.

Then Rhen shifted, his arm twitched.

Jinji relaxed—he was alive. It was the only sign she needed to press forward. The princess tugged Jinji back until the two of them were hidden behind a wide column.

"They are going to drown him," the princess whispered, "to make it look like an accident, as though he died in a shipwreck."

"How can we save him?"

The princess smirked underneath her veil, raising one eyebrow. "I create a scene, something my king will love, and while I do, you grab the body. Can you only change your image or can you mask other things as well?"

Jinji paused. She had never talked so openly about her gift, her connection to the spirits. It felt odd. Yet at the same time liberating. "I can mask other things as well," she said, matching the princess's grin.

"Then do it, and meet me back here."

The princess stepped out from their hiding spot and walked confidently forward. Soon enough, Jinji heard raised voices, a commotion, and she stepped from the column. The guards were talking with the princess, looking away from her and away from Rhen.

Lifting her hands before her, Jinji prayed to the spirits. Her emotions warmed when the mother spirit, jinjiajanu, jumped into her vision, encircling her in what felt like a loving hug.

Instantly, the elements heeded her call, weaving together in an invisible wall along the edge of the pool, enveloping Rhen in the scene so he was on the side with Jinji, hidden from the rest of the world. Any guard that looked over would see Rhen immobile beside the pool—the scene would remain unchanged as long as they kept their distance. But in reality, Jinji had just crafted an illusion of the hall.

Holding her breath, she ran forward, not wasting time.

The illusion worked.

Not one of the guards sounded an alarm. No one saw her. No one realized she was currently cradling Rhen's head in her lap, brushing the hairs from his forehead, wincing at the cut that dug deep into his skin.

He didn’t stir. But it was better that way.

He could never see her like this. Could never see her for what she truly was—a girl.

To Rhen, she would always be Jin. But staring at his closed eyes, Jinji couldn’t help but wish for an instant that they would open and uncover her secret.

A shout sounded behind her.

Jinji's head whipped around.

More guards were coming. Whatever time she had was gone.

Standing, Jinji pulled on Rhen's hands, hoping she wasn't causing any more pain as she dragged his body across the cold, hard floor.

Her arms ached. Her shoulders felt as though they would detach from her body at any second. Every muscle burned, screaming at her in protest.

Rhen was heavy. Really, really heavy.

And all Jinji could do was keep pulling, hoping that they got out of sight in time.

12

RHEN

~ DA'ASTIKU ~

A goddess.

Every time Rhen closed his eyes, he saw her. A vision in gold. His head was nestled in her lap and she looked down over him, hidden behind a veil of shimmering metal, but there was affection in that gaze. Rhen could still feel her fingers brush over his cheeks, push his hair to the side, run over his lower lip. His skin tingled, alive at the touch.

In the dream, she leaned down, pressing a long, soft kiss to his lips.

Then his eyes opened and he was back here, shoved in a crate underneath some sort of moving contraption, unsure of where he was or who was holding him there.

But something was certain: King Razzaq had not killed him, despite the ringing pain in his head that said otherwise.

Rhen sighed, trying to shift his sore muscles, but his wide body was cramped in the small space. There was nothing to do but wait.

He closed his eyes again, welcoming the vision of the nameless woman. Who was she? Was she even real?

The bouncing stopped.

Rhen's eyes tore open, flicking through the darkness. He balled his hands into fists, trying to reach for his sword but he could not access his hip—he couldn't even tell if his weapon was still there.